How to Handle a Good Morning

Photo by Nelso47

Um...It was a good morning.

No, seriously, I mean it!  Things went smoothly.  No significant fights over getting ready, no hatred spewed, no ugliness at all.

If you don't know me and my life, that might not sound like such a big deal.  But if you know me, you know what a rare jewel a good school morning is.

I used to handle such things horribly, and even now I usually don't handle those jewels as well as I should, but I want today to be different.  I hope you'll come along as I work my way through this, and maybe you'll be blessed, too.

What's that I said?  I don't usually handle God's good gifts well?  Why would that be?

It's simple, really.  In the past (and to a lesser extent, even now), I have tended to receive good mornings (or any rare blessing) the way a pre-linguistic Helen Keller received things from her caregivers.

Snatch.  Gnaw.  Consume.  Figure out how to make sure you get more.  Try to get control over those who give it.  Hold it tightly.  Give no thought to humble gratitude...but be prepared to dish out severe punishment if more good stuff isn't immediately forthcoming.  This good thing is a little taste of life, and you need it...you need control over it...desperately.

Ironically, the snatching, grasping, desperately clawing recipient gets no real, lasting joy from the gift.  The most she can settle for is an uneasy sense of triumph with no assurance of future blessings at all.

Does any of this sound familiar?  I admit, my imagery was rather stark. No one who has seen "The Miracle Worker" can ever forget the intense, knock-down, drag-out fight scene between Helen and Anne Sullivan.  We don't want to see ourselves in Helen, and most likely we've never behaved exactly as she did (at least not since our tantruming toddler days). But look at my description again.  At its core, at least to some degree, does the above describe how you receive God's blessings?  No?  Walk a little further with me, and you may begin to recognize it a little better.  Even if, like me, the worst of these attitudes is behind you, you might still see hints of them trying to rise up again.  So please indulge the following question:

When you've received a rare blessing... something you desperately desire but have to do without most of the time... do you pray afterwards?  If so, how do you pray afterwards?

Perhaps you don't pray.  Why would that be?

•  Perhaps it's because you already got what you wanted, so what is there to pray about, right?  (Translation:  Prayer isn't about a loving relationship with God, it's about controlling God, getting what you want out of Him.  Therefore it's pointless to pray if you've got "it" already.  To go back to our example above, Helen has been handed enough cake to satisfy her sweet tooth, and once she's gobbled it, she's ready to go play.  The giver is forgotten until something else is needed.)  I've been guilty of this, for sure. 
• Or perhaps it's because you see God as an unpredictably explosive despot, who is best handled by tiptoeing around Him.  Like an abused child, you just want to make sure you keep under His radar, so that maybe He won't hurt you.  I used to see God that way.  It's far from the truth about Him, and I pray that He will lovingly remove such misconceptions from your heart if they're there.

Perhaps you pray, but with a heart that's in the wrong place.

• Perhaps you pray as if you're God's teacher, trying to use Behavior Modification techniques on Him.  "See now, God, how this went?  You finally got it right.  This is how it's supposed to go, and I expect it from now on."  You dish out what you call "praise" not from a humble heart of gratitude, but as an attempt to manipulate and control God.  You see Him as a praise-hungry, grasping soul Himself.  He needs strokes from you, and you need (whatever it is) from Him.  So you work out a trade.  There's nothing even approximating love or respect here.  I know, because I've been there.
• Perhaps you pray fearfully, as one who thinks the gift could be snatched away at any time.  Every "good morning" seems to you like a chance that things could go well from now on, and in fact, they should go well from now on...but God might just play the Grinch and take it all away.  I know this reality far too well.  Just over a week ago, I actually corresponded with a teacher who was gushing over how well things had gone in first period...and almost immediately after responding to that email, I got a call from another teacher telling me that my son had done the worst of all the awful things he's ever done in school.  Disciplinary actions would have to be stronger.  Details would have to go in his permanent record.  I would have to meet with deans and school psychologists yet again.  Medication consults would have to be scheduled.  The timing...so soon after a hopeful email that made my heart glad...it seemed cruel and capricious indeed.  If it had happened a few years ago, that's exactly how I would have seen it.  And I still find little hints of that attitude popping up now and then.

Can you see how such attitudes would completely ruin whatever we received?

So how should you and I handle God's good gifts?

• Recognize the Giver, and receive His gifts accordingly.
• He is our loving, perfect Heavenly Father who does all things well.  Everything He sends to His children is love.  Love Him in return!
• He is the Heavenly Gardener who sends both sunshine and rain, at the right times and the right quantities (even though they might not seem right to me at the time).  Trust Him.
• He's the Great Physician.  He sees how sin has broken us, and He knows how to set the bones so they'll grow straight and strong again.  If the setting process is painful, it's still done in love.  Submit to His care.

• Recognize the gift, and receive it accordingly.
• It is given as a secondary gift.  The primary gift that God gives is Himself.  He is the greatest good.  And He is always there for His children, even when His gifts are not obviously given. So receive each gift as a secondary thing.  Treasure it...but treasure Him more.
• It is given for a particular time.  It will probably not last forever, but it will last as long as God deems best. Do not fear that it will be taken away prematurely.  It may well be taken away before you'd like it to be, but His timing is perfect.  So enjoy the gift thoroughly, even as you hold it loosely.  
• It is an act of His love, not a test of His love.  The proof of His love came at Calvary, when He gave infinitely above and beyond all reasonable doubt of His love.  He gave His life to purchase eternity for you!  (Imagine if your own children doubted your love between every meal, viewed each mealtime as a test of your love, received each meal as proof.  Of course you would be terribly grieved by that kind of distrust.  And if your love should be obvious to your children, shouldn't God's love be obvious to His children? You can trust the love of the one who died for you (See Rom 8:32).

• Recognize the recipients of the gift.  Yes, I said recipients - plural.  Let's go back to my pleasant morning as an example.  It was a gift to me, of course, but it was also a gift to the child in question, his father, his siblings, his teachers, his classmates, and anyone else who could benefit from the good start we all enjoyed.  In fact, the recipients include YOU, the reader of this blog.  This entry wouldn't have happened today without the good morning that made me think these things through.  Only God is wise enough to weave together all of the threads of our lives in ways that make everything work out for the good of everyone who loves Him.  When you realize how many people are involved, it's easier to accept the fact that "The Good" is far more complex than you or I can comprehend.  Expand your view beyond yourself, and then trust God to make it all work out the way it should.

"Thank You, Lord, for this morning.  I know it came from Your loving hand, but I also know that the hard mornings also come from Your loving hand.  I trust You with all of it.  Thank You for the good that You plan to bring out of it all, not just for me, but for all those who are touched by our family, directly or indirectly.  I don't know if the phone is about to ring with bad news, or if things will seemingly "go wrong" in some other way...or if this wonderful peacefulness will last for a good long while.  Whatever you place in my hands, I willingly receive.  And whatever you take from my hands, I willingly relinquish.  In the Name of the One who died for me, Amen!"

Receiving and Perceiving

“How we respond to difficulties will determine whether we are a winner or a whiner. One of Satan’s first temptations when our life appears to be on hold like Joseph is to tempt us to live by feelings instead of faith.”
~ Michael Yousse

 

I didn't sleep well again last night.

They tell me that it's normal to start having more insomnia at mid-life.  So maybe I've got a "new normal" to adjust to.

How well will I do that?

If you've hung around this blog long enough, you know that I have a cynical side to my nature.  It's not something I'm proud to admit, but it's definitely there.  One of the ways I tend to show it is by rejecting hope.  Another way is by rejecting happiness.

Sin makes us into such fools, doesn't it?

I am quick to despise whining and resentfulness and ingratitude in others, but tend to cling to those attributes in myself.  Why?

Because true happiness requires humility, at least when life hurts.  So the opposite feelings, resentfulness and ingratitude, spring from pride.  And pride magnifies me in my own eyes while denigrating others.

Picture it this way.  If I make a run-of-the-mill tuna casserole and bring it as a surprise to a beggar on the street, and serve it to him on my own worn and faded dishes, he's likely to be overwhelmed with gratitude and very happy (even if he's not overly fond of tuna).  If I do the same thing for a king, he's going to wonder who in the world I am, who I think I am, what gives me the right to approach him, whether or not I've poisoned the food, and how I could possibly think he in all his majesty would want my casserole on my less-than-royal dishes.

We receive as we perceive.  We are grateful in accordance with what we feel we deserve, compared to what was actually given.

When I have a whiny, resentful attitude toward the hardships in my life, I am telling God that I deserve better.  I am prideful.  I am the personification of Royalty Insulted.

When I gratefully receive what He gives, even when it doesn't look appealing, I am acknowledging to Him that I am a beggar, deserving no royal treatment whatsoever.  And that hurts.

Part of me screams, "I am not a doormat!  If I receive this gratefully, I'll never receive anything better than this!  If I let Him know how displeased I am, maybe He'll do better next time!"

Ouch.

Not only am I prideful, but I'm insulting to Almighty God.  I'm saying I know better than He does what I deserve, and that His gifts are substandard!

No wonder God takes grumbling and complaining and ingratitude so seriously (Deut 28:47-48, Job 40:8, Ps 106:25-26, Php 2:14-15)!

Is the Lord really a miser, giving only the bare minimum, waiting for any excuse to shirk on His generosity, and basing His giving on my willingness to be pleased?

Look at Calvary, Betsy, look at the promises of Heaven, and ask that question again.

Shame on me, oh shame on me!

Lord, please forgive my pride and my insulting attitude of ingratitude.  Thank You that You work all things (including insomnia, the challenges of special needs kids, chronic pain, etc) for my good as I receive them lovingly according to Your purposes (Rom 8:28) .  Help me to trust You that You make no mistakes, that You are generous beyond my wildest dreams, and that Your plans for me are better than I can ever imagine (1 Co 2:9).

If the converted thief on the cross can humbly receive his lot without charging God with wrong (Luke 23:41), if Job can bless the Lord through devastating loss (Job 1:21-22), if Jesus could entrust Himself to the Father in the midst of the most undeserved suffering that history has ever seen (1 Pet 2:23) , then who am I to grumble at life's hardships?

And yet, didn't I just grouse two seconds ago about my computer mouse not cooperating with me, as I'm writing this very post?  Don't I feel impatient with my son who is dawdling upstairs?

Of all the things I need to be grateful for this morning, I think God's patience, forgiveness, and continued work on my behalf (despite my thick-headedness) should be at the top of the list.

Thank you, generous Lord, from one very undeserving beggar!

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Today's quote was provided by Karen at In Love W.I.T.H. Jesus, for this week's "In Other Words" writing meme.  Please drop by her site for links to more entries dealing with this quote.

The sketch is an adaptation of a photograph by Donald Macleod.  I can usually link the artwork directly to the source, but when I use Fotosketcher to adapt the photos, it somehow prevents direct linking, so I must include the credit here.

The Wonder of Our Daily Bread

In these uncertain times, in which matters great and small fill our hearts and minds with very real concerns, I find comfort in the simply profound truths written below.  They help us appreciate the greatness of God’s “simple gifts,” and also give us hope that our own small lives matter more than we may realize.  I hope these words are a help to you as well.

 

Every Harvest Is Prophecy

G.H. Morrison on Matt. 6:11 (Edited for length)

The Tiniest Petitions

“When you read it unimaginatively, ‘Give us this day our daily bread’ seems an almost trifling petition. It almost looks like an intruder here. On the one side of it (Matt. 6:10) there is the will of God, reaching out into the height of heaven. On the other side of it (Matt. 6:12) there are our sins, reaching down into unfathomed depths. And then, between these two infinities, spanning the distance from cherubim to Satan, there is ‘Give us this day our daily bread.’ Our sin runs back to an uncharted past, but in this petition there is no thought of yesterday. The will of God shall be for evermore, but in this petition there is no tomorrow.  As if some hill that a child could climb should be set down between two mighty Alps, so seems this prayer for our daily bread between the will of the eternal God, and the cry for pardon for our sins whose roots go down into the depths of hell.

But now suppose you take this prayer and set it in the light of harvest. Give us this day our daily bread—can you tell me what is involved when it is answered? Why, if you but realized it, and caught the infinite range of its relationships, never again would it be insignificant. For all the ministry of spring is in it, and all the warmth and glory of the summer. And night and day, and heat and cold, and frost, and all the falling of the rain. And light that has come from distances unthinkable, and breezes that have blown from far away, and powers of nourishment that for years have been preparing in the mother earth.  Is it a little thing to get a piece of bread? Is it so little that it is out of place here where we are moving in the heights and depths? Not if you set it in the light of harvest.

I think then there is a lesson here about the greatness of the things we pray for. Our tiniest petitions might seem large, if we only knew what the answer would involve. There are things which you ask for which seem little things. Yet could you follow out that prayer of yours, you might find it calling for the power of heaven as mightily as the conversion of the nations.  You are lonely, and you pray to God that He would send a friend into your life. And then some day to you there comes that friend, perhaps in the most casual of meetings. Yet who shall tell the countless prearrangements, before there was that footfall on the threshold which has made all the difference in the world to you?

Give us this day our daily bread, and the sunshine and the storm are in the answer. Give us a friend, and perhaps there was no answer saving for omniscience and omnipotence. Now we know in part and see in part, but when we know even as we are known we shall discover all that was involved in the answer to our humblest prayers.

The Toil It Cost

In the second place, in the light of harvest think of the toil that lies behind the gift.

Now and then a gift is given us which touches us in a peculiar way, because we recognize the toil it cost. It may be given us by a child perhaps, or it may be given us by some poor woman. And it is not beautiful, nor is it costly, nor would it fetch a shilling in the market. And yet to us who know the story of it, and how the hands were busied in the making, it may be beautiful as any diadem. 

I want you then to take that thought and to apply it to your daily bread. It is a gift, and yet behind that gift do you remember all the toil there is?  Daily bread is more divine than manna for, like manna, it is the gift of heaven, and yet we get it not till arms are weary and sweat has broken on the human brow. I think of the ploughman with his steaming horses driving his furrow in the heavy field. I think of the sower going forth to sow. I think of the stir and movement of the harvest. I think of the clanking of the threshing mill, and of the dusty grinding of the corn, and of all those who in our bakeries are toiling in the night when we are sleeping.

And is it not generally in such ways that our most precious gifts are given us? Every good and perfect gift is from above, yet is there something of heart-blood on them all. A noble painting is a precious gift. It is a thing of beauty and a joy forever.  So is it with every noble poem; so with our civil and religious liberty. They are all gifts to us; they come from God; they are ours to cherish and enjoy. Yet every one of them is wet with tears, and charactered with human toil and pain, and oftentimes, like the Messiah's garment, dipped in the final ministry of blood. Into that fellowship of lofty gifts I want you, then, to put your daily bread. It is not little, nor is it insignificant when you remember all that lies behind it.

By Lowly Hands

Lastly, in the light of harvest think of the hands through which the gift is given. ‘Give us this day our daily bread’ we pray, and then through certain hands it is bestowed. Whose hands? Are they the hands of the illustrious, or of those whose names are famous in the world? All of you know as well as I do that it is not thus our bread is ministered; it reaches us by the hands of lowly men. Out of his cottage does the reaper come, and back to his cottage does he go at evening. And we halt a moment, and we watch him toiling under the autumn sunshine in the field. But what his name is, or where he had his birth, or what are his hopes and what his tragedies, of that we know absolutely nothing. So was it with the sower in the spring, and the harvester in autumn. They have no chronicle, nor any luster, nor any greatness in the eyes of man. And what I want you to realize is this, that when God answers this universal prayer, it is such hands as these that he employs.  Are there not tens of thousands who are nameless, toiling, sorrowing, rejoicing, dying, and never raising a ripple on the sea? Give us this day our daily bread—it is by such hands that the prayer is answered. It is by these that the Almighty Father shows that He is hearkening to His children. It is His recognition of obscurity.

Perhaps we shall never know how life is beautified and raised and glorified by those who toil in undistinguished fashion. Such men may never write great poems, but it is they who make great poems possible. Such may never do heroic things, but they are the soil in which the seed is sown. Such men will not redeem the world. It takes the incarnate Son of God for that. But they—the peasants and the fishermen—will carry forth the music to humanity. Give us this day our daily bread. Are there not multitudes who are praying so?

And you, you have no genius, no gifts? You are an obscure and ordinary person ? But if there is any meaning in our text, set in the light of sowing and of harvest, it is that the answer to that daily prayer will be vouchsafed through lowly folk like you.”

G.H. Morrison (1866-1928)

This Thing Called "Thanksgiving"

(This is something I wrote back in 2005, and originally posted on a different website. I thought I'd repost it over here today, and I hope you are blessed.)

This Thing called "Thanksgiving"

Image via Wikipedia

Lately I've been remembering an incident from when I was in middle school. A teacher had done something for a student, and the student didn't thank her. The teacher gently reminded her that a "Thank You" would be appropriate, and the student got huffy.

"People shouldn't do things for other people just to get thanked!” the student griped at me. “That's so selfish of her! I don't do things for people just so they will thank me, and I don't expect them to thank me! And I'm not going to thank her, either!"

I'm sure that's not an exact quote, but it certainly captures her meaning.

Was she right? What's the big deal with this thing called "Gratitude"? The world sure doesn't have much respect for it, except when they think that someone owes it to them! Just look at what has happened to Thanksgiving Day. How many people have you heard call it "Turkey Day"? How much sincere, heartfelt thanks do you suppose God really receives on that day?

In Michigan this year, at least one school district banned Thanksgiving altogether, replacing it with…get this… “Lucky Thursday.” I don’t know about you, but when I hear that, it turns my stomach.

Does giving thanks really matter? Who says so?

Of course, God says so, and He says it very clearly. And our own hearts know that something feels wrong inside when we do something for someone who greedily snatches it without a thought toward the giver. Is that selfish on our part, as the girl in my middle school thought?

Remember the story of the 10 lepers (Luke 17:12-19)? Jesus healed all ten of them, but only one returned to give Him thanks. Jesus' response was kind of surprising. First he marveled at the ingratitude of the others. That part isn't surprising. But then in verse 19 he says to the thankful man,

"Your faith has made you well."

What did He mean by that? The man was already healed, wasn't he? And why this reference to the man's "faith," as if his faith were tied in to his gratitude?

Are gratitude and faith related?

Thankfulness, by its very nature, acknowledges the giver. And when the giver is God, then thankfulness requires us to have enough faith to acknowledge Him. No wonder so many people talk about "Turkey Day!" The world does not want to acknowledge God (Rom. 1:28).

"Being thankful" sounds nice, but giving thanks is a whole different ball game. "Giving" is something you do to someone, and the world doesn't want to admit that there really is Someone to thank!

Well, I know you don't need me to tell YOU those things. You acknowledge Him and own Him as Savior and Lord, and so do I. So we have this Thanksgiving thing sewn up, right?

Do we? Do I?

Thanksgiving requires more than acknowledgement of the giver. Thanksgiving requires humility. It acknowledges that the gift was an act of kindness, given because of the giver's goodness, and not my own.

A king does not thank his subjects. Whatever they do for him is owed to him because he is the king. They are simply doing their duty. It is the same with masters and servants. (Luke 17:7-10). When we are ungrateful, we place ourselves in the position of a superior, like a king. We are saying that we deserved whatever good the other person did. We are implying that it was their duty to us, and not their kindness toward us, which prompted the gift. I think that sometimes we have a hard time truly feeling grateful because, down deep inside, we all feel that we are owed something. I know that I struggle with that. Life has given me lots of pain, pain that God has allowed. I'm sure you could say the same. And it's so easy to focus on our hurts and decide that God owes us! But true thankfulness springs from a heart that knows its own unworthiness. Only such a heart can understand the magnitude of God's goodness to us.

Lord, give me such a heart!

Gratitude isn’t merely something that requires a certain attitude. It also perpetuates a certain attitude. Take a look through Romans chapter 1, starting in verse 20. It paints a frightening picture of a person's (or a society's) descent into depravity. It talks about an alarming chain of events which lead to foolish ideas about what God is like, idolatry, perversion, envy, murder, deception, even hatred toward God. (Those are just a few of the things that are listed.) And what starts this awful chain of events? Look at verse 21. "Yes, they knew God, but they wouldn't worship him as God or even give Him thanks." Ingratitude is listed right up there as one of the driving forces behind this dreadful downward spiral. The fact of the matter is, thankfulness to God is part of our Spiritual lifeblood. Satan knows it, and he loves to attack us there. He loves to make us ungrateful, just as he was ungrateful for all that God had done for him in making him the highest angel in Heaven. Ingratitude was part of the pride that threw Lucifer out of Heaven, and he wants to use it to rob us of our heavenly joy.

Lord, help us to be truly grateful for everything, every breath that we draw, every meal that we eat, every sunset, every friend, and even every trial that You allow for the purpose of refining us. Help us to be especially thankful for Your love, and for Jesus, and for Your precious Holy Spirit who is willing to live in sinful hearts like ours. Please forgive us for the many times we've "said Grace" without really meaning it. Please forgive us for feeling that You owe us, and give us the joy of truly grateful hearts. In Jesus' Name, Amen!

A Memorable Thanksgiving

I'm interrupting our series again, this time so I can participate in "At the Well." This week's writing prompt was one I simply couldn't resist.

Share with your readers a testimony of how God brought you thru a difficult time.

What is the most memorable Thanksgiving you have experienced?

That question could only bring one very remarkable Thanksgiving day to my mind.

(Photo from Stock.xchng by jvdberg)

I'd never done any Thanksgiving entertaining since the troubles began with my kids (two of them have special needs). But back on the Thanksgiving of 2004, we decided to have friends over to celebrate with us. We would have the big meal around noon, so I skipped breakfast in order to have a good appetite for the feast.

I also drank lots of my favorite caffeine source (Diet Dew, thank you very much). And, at that time I was taking a prescribed medication which, among other things, had a stimulant effect.

And I was under stress. Lots of stress.

The house was a mess. It always is, and at that point in their lives, my kids weren't able to be any real help. In fact, it was often quite the opposite.

I had just tackled the unenviable job of mopping the bathroom floor, the kids were acting up, and I was mad. Definitely not in the spirit of the day.

Worse yet, I was definitely not in The (Holy) Spirit. To be honest, back then I don't think The Spirit was in me. He was working on me, drawing me, but not in me yet. And a lot of His work could best be described as demolition. I had built lots of very thick walls, a veritable fortress of self protection around my heart, and every brick was held in place by the mortar of anger. Fear plastered every surface. Within my stronghold I stood fiercely, stubbornly alone, trusting no one, depending on no one, sharing my heart with no one. I put up a smiling front in public, but that's all it was. A charade that hid a multitude of self-destructive heart sins.

And on Thanksgiving Day, 2004, my heart said, "Enough is enough."

The pain struck as I simultaneously mopped the floor and yelled at one of my kids. And it was unlike any pain I had ever felt before.

Don't get me wrong; I'm very used to pain. I have some pretty serious back problems that have plagued me since I was a young child. And at first I thought this was my back...but it wasn't the same as any other back pain. And something in my inmost being knew that this was serious.

I tried adjusting my spine with a little technique that I use, but the pain only got worse. It sat heavy in between my shoulder blades, and it brought tears to my eyes...not because the pain was that severe (though it was pretty bad), but because my soul knew I was in a crisis, even if my mind hadn't come to grips with it yet.

"I have to go lie down. My back hurts." I made my way upstairs, but the pain made it a little hard to breathe.

My husband could sense that this was out of the ordinary, and he came up with me. Bless his heart, he just stayed there, never leaving me, while I worked through what was happening.

The pain isn't really in my spine. It's not that far back. It's in the center of my chest.

Don't be ridiculous, Betsy. You can't be having a heart attack. You don't have heart problems, and you aren't overweight, and you've never smoked, and you just turned 40 less than a month ago. There's no way this is a heart attack.

Lying down didn't lessen the pain. It should have, if it was merely back pain.

I finally took the risk of sounding like a fool. "John, it's not likely, really...but this could be my heart."

He hovered close while I told him all the reasons that it couldn't be my heart...and yet I think he knew I wasn't convinced.

The pain started traveling up toward my jaw.

"I hate to bother our doctor over his Thanksgiving dinner..." Our doctor was also a member of our church, and had been our Sunday School teacher for a while, but we weren't close friends or anything. I sure didn't want to make a fool out of myself and ruin his Thanksgiving in the process. But I did have his home phone number.

"Maybe we'd better call him just to see what he thinks."

John told the doctor what he knew, and I could tell the doctor wasn't thinking it was serious enough, so I took the phone and talked to him myself. He decided that, while it was likely to be nothing at all, I should get it checked out. He would call ahead to the hospital and tell them to expect me.

We called our would-be dinner guests and explained the situation, then bundled up three rowdy boys and drove toward the hospital.

My hands were white. Very, very white.

John checked me in at the emergency room. I just sat and worked on breathing. Actually, I was feeling a bit better now, and the color was returning to my hands.

My children ricocheted around the waiting area. Autism doesn't mix well with such settings. When the staff came to take me to triage, John decided he'd better take the kids home. I agreed.

So there I lay, in the little curtained-off triage section, alone. Sure, the staff came by sometimes, read the readouts from my monitors and talked to me. But much of the time I was all alone, except for the voices of the other sufferers beyond my curtain. One little child screamed and screamed and screamed. He had a gash on his jaw that would require stitches. I felt for him, and for his mom. I'd dealt with my share of screaming children in my life, and that sound wracked my nerves like nothing else.

Finally the cardiologist himself came in. "Your cardiac enzymes are elevated. That can only mean one thing. You've had a heart attack. And you keep having arrhythmias. We'll have to admit you to find out what's going on."

I called my husband and filled him in. Then I lay on my back and watched the lights on the ceiling go past as my gurney was wheeled along the hallway. It's a strange, vulnerable position to be in.

Alone.

Aloneness suited me just fine. It was simply the external match for my internal reality. If anyone else had been there, I would still have been alone. I wouldn't have known how to let anyone into my fortress if I'd wanted to. And why would I want to?

Later that day...or maybe the next, I can't remember...anyway, I was soon wheeled into the cardiac cath lab. A huge-bore needle went into a blood vessel in my thigh, and a camera-fitted catheter weaved its way into my heart. It found a blockage...not caused by plaque, but by a spasm of a coronary artery.

Stress-related, they told me. Go figure. The caffeine and the prescription medication and the empty stomach hadn't helped, either. They put in a stent, and I had to lie completely still, not moving at all, for 4 hours afterwards so the big hole they'd made in my blood vessel could be fully sealed.

That should have taken care of everything, but it didn't. My heart raced uncontrollably. Just to get up and walk to the bathroom sent it shooting up to 130 beats per minute. Nobody knew why.

I stayed in the hospital for 4 days while a new regimen of medication stabilized my heart. I'll have to take those for the rest of my life, most likely.

Four days is a long time to lie in a hospital, mostly alone, and think about your own mortality. And perhaps one of the most important realizations to come out of that time was this rather startling one:

I don't really want to die.

As if that weren't startling enough for someone who used to call God a "cosmic sadist" for refusing to strike me dead with lightning, the following realization followed close on its heels:

I want to live not for my own sake,
but for my family's.

I'm ashamed to say it, but that was probably the first truly unselfish thought I'd had in years and years.

It's hard to be unselfish when life is one endless stream of vicious attacks, and you think you're in it alone.

Fast-forward four years. Every Thanksgiving has been a reminder that I'm blessed to be alive. But writing this down has started some new thoughts for me.

How much of the change in my soul began with that incredible day when He first gave me back my desire to live?

I have more to be thankful for than just surviving. I'm thankful that God is teaching me to love Him, and to trust Him, and to love others, and to let others into my fortress. Better yet, he's teaching me to take a chisel and work with Him on pulling walls down altogether.

That's an awful lot to be thankful for!

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This week's "At the Well" is being hosted by Laurie over at Women Taking a Stand. Be sure to drop by there to read her thoughts on this topic, and to find links to other participants' postings as well. Remember to leave comments if you were blessed!

"At the Well" - Guest Blogger

I am thrilled to have my sister, Mary Waterloo, adding her own story in poetic form to this week's "At the Well" meme. I told her what the given topic was...

How do you give thanks during difficult times?
Share with your readers a testimony of how God brought you thru a difficult time.
What is the most memorable Thanksgiving you have experienced?

...and I casually mentioned that she might want to write something down. (I happen to know that she had had a rather unforgettable Thanksgiving back in 1995, just a few days before my oldest son was born.) She doesn't have her own blog, so I said I'd post anything she wrote to mine. I kid you not, she wrote this poem in about 7 minutes and emailed it to me. It's my pleasure to share it with you all.

(Photo from Stock.xchng by Brunatka)

The next day was Thanksgiving
And I was still at work
My pager started buzzing and
I grabbed it with a jerk.

The message, a little garbled
The words not sinking in,
"Surely they are kidding?"
I pondered, with a grin.

It said my house was burning,
Could I please come on home
The firemen were waiting
Covered in that funny foam.

Fast, I drove through traffic,
Still trying to explain
"Surely just a burning pan!"
Begged my frantic brain.

Oh such devastation,
Twas near a total loss.
Still I cried in great relief
There was no human cost.

So much went up in smoke
But thanks I still was giving
Every life that meant so much
Was still among the living.

The Father gives and takes
His plans beyond our ken
His praises kept my soul alive
Here, and now, and then.

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(Note: This experience of "Guest Blogging" was so much fun for my sister that she has decided to start her own blog. It's called "Eye on Creation," and you can find it here.)

This week's "At the Well" is being hosted by Laurie over at Women Taking a Stand. Be sure to drop by there to read her thoughts on this topic, and to find links to other participants' postings as well. Remember to leave comments if you were blessed!

Honking, Leaf Jumping, and Books in Green Ink

A while back I started what's called "A Thousand Gift List." I got the idea (and the graphic) from Ann Voskamp at Holy Experience. This will be my second installment, an entry devoted to thanking God for His simple (yet profound) gifts.

You know...I'm tempted to apologize here, or put in some sort of disclaimer that says, "I normally write much deeper posts than this. Please don't be disappointed in getting a 'lightweight' entry today. I promise the next one will be meaty."

That's so wrong.

Yes, "deep and meaty" are good, and God has designed me to think and write that way. But simple thanksgiving is good too, very good, and I should never relegate it to second place.

Lord, please teach me how much You love gratitude!

I Am Thankful to Almighty God for:

Geese who honk but never get in traffic jams
(though I've known them to cause a few...)
Something about their winged conversations
brings a smile to my heart every time.

and I am thankful for:

A blanket of Fall leaves,
a backyard to play in, manpower (and boy power)
to make a big multicolored pile...

and the joy of jumping.

And I am thankful for:

The fertile imagination of a ten-year-old autistic son,
who uses his markers to share his world with us.
A son whose initials are PJM,
whose favorite color is green,
and who loves cell phones.

The other day I found a three-page "book" made of notebook paper taped together.
The 1st page said,

"SUPERPJM 2 And The Cell Phone."

Page 2 said, "Once upon a time there was a cell phone on the ground"

And page 3 concludes our story with this scintillating climax:

SUPERPJM saw it and said heres my cell phone

You just gotta love that kid.

More than that, you've just gotta love the God who gave all of these wonderful gifts to us.



Why not start your own, "Thousand Gift List?"

A Thousand Gifts

I know that the next item in the blog should be "How Does the Holy Spirit Really Help Us?" It's the next (and probably last) posting in the series that began with "I Was Born This Way." It's in the works, but it's not ready yet. And in the meantime, I just feel I have to act on the wonderful idea I got from Ann Voskamp at A Holy Experience.

To encourage believers to give the Lord the glory due His Name through gratitude, different bloggers are beginning to create what they call the "One Thousand Gift List." Periodically they will add to their lists and share them with readers. A thousand ordinary things to thank the Lord for. It sounds like a wonderful idea to me. So here's my "starter list."

I'm thankful to Almighty God for:

My precious, one-of-a-kind family

Snowcaps in the middle of Summer ...
A reminder that God provides refreshment
in every season of life.

And Fall colors ...
A reminder that, for believers, even death has lost its sting.
If He makes death beautiful for leaves,
how much more will He give beauty to those who,
through physical death,
join Him in eternal life?
(I guess writing about my Heaven-dwelling grandparents made me think of this one.)

So much to be thankful for!

Why not start your own "Thousand Gift List?" (All of my entries on this subject can be found here.)

(All photos except the family portrait were taken by Betsy Markman here in Colorado)